


isle of life

by kyrilu



Category: Death Note (Movies), Death Note: Light Up the NEW World (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: “I think,” Mishima says, “I did something terrible.”
Relationships: Mishima Tsukuru | Nakagami Ryou/Ryuzaki | Arai Masayuki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	isle of life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomachia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/gifts).



“I think,” Mishima Tsukuru says, pale-faced, “I did something terrible.” He is clutching one of his police notebooks, dark circles underneath his eyes.

He’d barged into the cafe rather noisily, head swiveling around until he found Ryuzaki sitting at one of the tables. 

Ryuzaki frowns. He hadn’t expected to be accosted by a task force member over breakfast. After all, he had just started working with them recently, and there was friction over an outsider intruding in the investigation, L successor or otherwise. 

He’s really not one for diplomacy. If J were here, she would be preparing flashcards about Japanese social conventions, but she isn’t. Besides, it’s not as if the last L didn’t have his quirks. 

“I was just about to eat my cake,” Ryuzaki says, lowering his sunglasses a fraction to peer at the harried police officer. “What’s this about?” 

Mishima seems to steel himself. He takes one breath, then another, and then slides into the seat across from Ryuzaki. “There’s a painting in my apartment. I put it up a while ago, couldn’t really remember why. And I noticed -- it was off. Crooked. I went to adjust it, and there was something taped behind it. This.” 

He sets the white notebook on the table. At first glance, it’s utterly unremarkable. Mishima is always scribbling and cross-checking information in his notebook, bulging with details about the Death Notes and Kira.

“I don’t remember hiding this notebook,” Mishima continues. “I don’t even remember writing in it. But it’s my handwriting. The first entry dates back to a case a year ago. Mount Kora.” 

“Mikami Teru's disappearance,” Ryuzaki murmurs. Mishima gives a minute nod and opens the notebook, turning it so Ryuzaki reads out loud: “ _It was raining when I found the power of God._ \-- Ah, Mishima-kun, you could be a poet.” 

“Keep reading,” Mishima says, tremulous. “You’ll see what I mean.” 

With a gusty sigh, Ryuzaki pushes his cup of tea forward. “Drink this. I’ll read it.” 

Mishima looks baffled, but he accepts, his hands shaking. As Mishima takes a tentative sip, Ryuzaki skims Mishima’s handwriting in neat columns. It’s just as he expected ever since Mishima alluded to memory loss, and -- well. It almost feels like cheating. The previous L was never handed his solutions. 

“I don’t think somebody planted it to mess with me,” Mishima says, after a minute. “And I cross-referenced the dates and names. It’s real.” 

It appears it is. Ryuzaki’s finger traces over the account of Neo Kira’s ‘experiments’ with his victims. His subsequent targets planned and plotted. The Death Note rules recorded and examined. Mishima is nothing if not thorough, ‘Death Note otaku,’ and it is all here in ink and meticulous diagrams. 

Ryuzaki looks up, his gaze sharpening. “Why are you showing me this?” 

Mishima lets out a laugh of disbelief. “What else am I supposed to do? You’re the current L. You can figure out the next step. Turn me in. Use this to find who I gave my Note to, because even though I was _stupid_ enough to keep a record of all this, I still didn’t include the next Kira's name.” He exhales and takes another sip of Ryuzaki’s tea. “Shit. I don’t even know why I did it.” 

“You do know.” Ryuzaki doesn’t even have to repeat the thought process spelled out in Mishima’s journal. 

“Yes,” Mishima says, the agreement wrenched out of him, “I know why. That’s the worst part.” He shakes his head, his disheveled dark hair rustling.

“Cake,” Ryuzaki offers, pushing his plate forward, but not before he plucks the strawberry on top. 

“No, it’s fine, I --” Mishima pauses. “You’re strangely calm. Did you suspect me?” 

“Nope,” Ryuzaki says, popping the berry into his mouth. “There wasn’t enough data. It’s an interesting twist, isn’t it, Neo Kira-san?” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“It’s who you are.” 

“Not anymore,” Mishima says, tightly, and he turns his wrists up on the table. “Just take me back to the station. Tell Matsuda-san that I’m sorry.” 

“No.”

“--What?” 

“We’re still in the middle of tracking that other Death Note holder,” Ryuzaki reminds him. “Our unknown female Metal Dolls fan.” 

“What does that have to do with this?” 

“You're staying on the case.” Ryuzaki pushes up his sunglasses and pulls on his motorcycle gloves. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore -- it’s a shame, what a waste of good cake -- and he stands. 

Mishima scrambles to his feet. In a furious undertone, he says, “I don’t understand. Ryuzaki, I killed people. I let down Soichiro-san’s memory and everything I’m supposed to represent as a task force member. I should be in a cell. I should be _dead_ , my name written in a Note--” 

Unbidden, Ryuzaki thinks of the notebook in his own possession. Arma telling him: _Dear, your work is so dangerous. If there was ever a time you needed to write this new Kira's name to save yourself...I wouldn't tell._ His mouth twists in a snarl. He reaches forward, and he grabs Mishima by the arm, dragging him into an empty narrow hallway that leads to the cafe’s storerooms. 

He says, “Don’t talk like that. You’re not taking the coward’s way out.” 

_“I was going to kill you, Ryuzaki,_ ” Mishima hisses, the anger rolling off him in a steady stream. “You didn’t read that part at the end, did you? I was considering the shinigami eyes. It was my selfishness that saved you. I didn’t want to forfeit half my life, and I didn’t want you to drop dead too soon within the twenty-three days time span. I was counting on your work to lead the next Kira - this Pacifist Hacker guy - to the remaining notebooks. World’s greatest detective, right?” 

To be fair, the title remains a point of contention amongst Ryuzaki and L’s other proteges, but now's not quite the time for semantics. Even if Ryuzaki _is_ the greatest. 

Perhaps Mishima has a point, however. There is something odd about insisting on Mishima’s continued freedom and employment despite the bodies that have fallen on his command. But there is just something about Mishima that Ryuzaki cannot define, like the way that he pushes back, his fingers grasping Ryuzaki’s coat and pressing him against the wall, his eyes dark and simmering and guilt-ridden.

 _So that's what this is_ , Ryuzaki thinks, and he throws back his head and laughs. Taken by surprise, Mishima stares as Ryuzaki shakes with mirth. 

“You’re staying,” Ryuzaki says, between chuckles, “because I want you to stay, Mishima-kun.” 

And maybe this is a weakness. Maybe this is his own undoing, like L writing his own name to defeat Yagami Light. But no matter the shared genetic material running in his blood and veins, Ryzaki is not L, and he swore that he would never write in a Death Note.

 _I won’t use evil to fight evil_ , he had promised. 

He looks at Mishima Tsukeru. He sees enough goodness in him -- enough to count on, enough to have Ryuzaki’s back, enough to brighten the world from the darkness that he’s inflicted and save it from the darkness of others -- and he grins. 

“Come on. Let’s go find those Death Notes.” 


End file.
